


Music by Moonlight

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-08
Updated: 2003-07-08
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: The first time Billy ever really saw Elijah was three weeks into filming.





	Music by Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> All quotations, including the title, taken from _The Nightingale and the Rose_ by Oscar Wilde. The title of the photograph is _Te Anau 2_ by Viggo Mortensen. Many thanks to Cyndi for editing.
> 
> Content/Warnings: Mild bondage, pain-kink.

**A.** The first time Billy ever really saw Elijah was three weeks into filming. They were sitting around a table in the catering tent, talking and laughing, and Elijah took a bite out of a strawberry. Lips pursed around the bell-shape, sucking it all the way into his mouth and then letting it slip out again, just a fraction, so that he could bite off the stem. He didn’t rip it apart like Orlando, or suck it suggestively like Dominic, with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Just a simple motion, ended with a flash of sharp teeth.

That was the first time Billy actually saw Elijah.

He’d seen Elijah before, but he hadn’t actually noticed. And now he couldn’t stop noticing. He watched Elijah pull another strawberry into his mouth - suck, slip, and bite - and then he looked away because it was too sudden. Instead, his eyes caught on Elijah’s hand where it rested on the table, porcelain-white skin with fingertips stained by the juice from the strawberry, one tiny seed stuck to the side of Elijah’s thumb. And he thought about how breakable porcelain was, and how much the strawberry juice on Elijah’s fingertips looked like blood.

 

 

 **B.** Billy looked up from his cards when the phone rang. Sean excused himself, turned half-away to face the wall, one finger absently tracing the pattern of the flowered wallpaper as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be right there,” Sean said, and Billy knew who it was. Sean only got that tone of voice with one person, patient and soothing and infinitely understanding. A carpet to be walked on.

“I’m going to pick up Elijah; he’s lost his keys.” Unspoken was the knowledge that Elijah probably wasn’t in any shape to drive anyway, which was the real reason that he had called Sean.

Billy dropped his cards on the table, already knowing that Sean wouldn’t be back soon enough to finish the game. “Why is it always you?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if that was the real question, or if it was ‘Why is it always Elijah,’ or even ‘Why is it never me.’

Sean stopped mid-way through shrugging into his coat. “What are you talking about?” he asked, but Billy was already up and walking out the back door. He waited there for a moment, looking up at the stars, but Sean didn’t come after him.

Sean went after Elijah.

 

 

 **C.** He’d forgotten about the strawberry incident by the time they went out a few evenings later. He forgot until he saw Elijah dancing, glittershine and temptation, with the stars from a disco ball dancing across his skin and the light of a strobe flashing in his eyes. Then he remembered.

Elijah looked a little surprised when Billy caught him from behind on the dance floor, fingers skimming over his stomach, shrouded by the slippery tease of a long-sleeved shirt. But he didn’t seem uncomfortable, and he certainly didn’t object. Even when Billy’s hands slip-slid over the fabric to his waist, forefingers stroking a sliver of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Elijah’s pants were riding low on his slim hips, and Billy’s fingers curled into the belt loops to tug Elijah back against him. And when Elijah’s wide, searching eyes darted over his shoulder to ask the question, Billy already knew the answer.

Yes.

 

 

 **D.** Elijah hesitated when they got to the bed, but Billy didn’t. They hadn’t said a word since the club, clothing removed in charged silence, but Elijah wasn’t awkward when he knelt on the bed, when Billy settled behind him and the mattress dipped enough that Elijah fell back against Billy’s chest. He didn’t flinch from the touch of Billy’s lips on the back of his neck or Billy’s hand running down the knobs of his spine one-by-one, just turned his head to catch the kiss.

Elijah didn’t protest when Billy nudged his legs apart and settled between them, when Billy held his wrists together with one hand and brought their clasped fingers back, back so that Elijah had to arch, completely off-balance as Billy looped Elijah’s hands over his own head. He gasped a little when Billy finally eased him back, but Billy licked the sweat from his temples and whispered into his ears.

“‘His lips are as sweet as honey…’”

Billy flexed slightly, giving Elijah the cue to start moving. Which Elijah did, uncertainly at first and tense, trying to keep himself upright while Billy kept him off-balance, unable to do more than lift his body slightly and then allow his own weight to pull Billy in further, deeper. After the first few rocking undulations Elijah whimpered, turned his head to one side to bury his face against a captive arm. Billy kissed his shoulder and made a soft sound of encouragement.

“‘…and his breath is like frankincense.’”

After another minute Elijah’s calf muscles were burning enough that he relaxed more, settled most of his weight onto Billy. He cried out as Billy went even deeper, as his own position denied him the leverage to break away. Billy could feel Elijah’s calves flexing helplessly against him, the quick shallow breaths making his torso shake. He pushed with his hips, just enough that Elijah arched even more to get away, arched to the point of pain and Billy could hear it in the soft hiss of breath between Elijah’s clenched teeth.

“Billy…” A whispered plea, but Billy ignored it for a few moments more, until Elijah’s entire body started to shake with the strain, muscles quivering against him and sweat pearling on his skin to follow slick tracks down his naked body.

Then he gave Elijah what he was asking for.

 

 

 **E.** Viggo showed them all the photographs after they’d developed. He took a lot of pictures of the cast, in various states of actor-character metamorphosis, and usually, if they asked, he made them copies.

The one that caught Billy’s eye was of Elijah, in the snow at Te Anau, looking up at something out of sight. Elijah, not Frodo; sharp black contrast against the white of the snow. His skin was so pale that it looked like the snow, pristine and untouchable.

Billy ran his fingers over it, mesmerized. “May I have a copy of this one?” he asked, unable to look away from Elijah’s upturned face. The pause was long enough that he finally tore his eyes away, made himself look at Viggo, whose eyes knew far too much.

“Keep it. I have the negatives.”

Billy couldn’t manage a thank you, eyes drawn back to the photograph. Drawn to Elijah, outlined in pure white snow.

 

 

 **F.** Billy frowned when his cell phone rang, had to search half-asleep for it in pockets until he finally located it in his coat, hanging on the back of the front door. “Yes?”

“Billy, it’s me.” Elijah, soft but still clear above the underscoring of a techno mix. “Orli and Dom want to stay a while longer. Would you mind coming to pick me up?”

Billy thought about saying no, about crawling back into bed and telling Elijah to call Sean, about…

Sean.

He pulled his coat from the hook, glanced about for his keys and ignored the glowing numbers on his bedroom clock. “Where are you?” he asked.

 

 

 **G.** Elijah bit his lip when Billy eased inside of him, fists clenched and straining slightly against the silk scarves holding him to the headboard. Billy kissed Elijah’s cheeks, his chin, his throat, lips closing over the pulse-point and sucking at the throb of blood beneath the skin.

Elijah made a little noise when Billy pulled out halfway, but it turned into a drawn breath as Billy pushed back inside. Elijah’s pulse fluttered against Billy’s mouth; he took his cues from it, matched his pace to the beat of Elijah’s heart.

“Does it make you feel more in control?” Elijah asked, shaky whisper against Billy’s hair. Billy pulled reluctantly away from the staccato pulse of Elijah’s lifeblood, ran his tongue over Elijah’s parted lips.

“No,” he replied, changing his angle to make Elijah moan against him. “Control is when someone does something of their own free will, simply because you wish it.” He trailed kisses down Elijah’s jawline, sucked hard enough to bruise at the dip behind his earlobe, pulling moon-pale skin between his teeth. “This is child’s play.”

Elijah moaned again beneath him, twisted slightly in a futile attempt to get away. His fists closed and opened on empty air, unconsciously searching for something to hold onto. “What would you do for me?” Billy asked the curve of Elijah’s throat, the frantic pulse leaping against Billy’s tongue.

Billy thrust again; Elijah arched up to meet him. “Anything.”

 

 

 **H.** The photograph was peeking up at him from beneath an old book that Billy had thrown on the end table. He hadn’t figured out what he wanted to do with it yet, what it was that he needed from this particular image, frozen just like the snow that was falling eternally from the sky onto Elijah’s black sweater.

It wasn’t right. It was too pure, too spotless. The black-and-white relief made Elijah a ghost, a hollow outline. The snow bothered him.

He reached across the table for a strawberry, sitting bright and red and obscene in the basket on the table, and squeezed until the juice ran down, until it dripped onto the photograph and stained the shiny white snow. Elijah looked up from the blood-spattered ground, away from him, expression somewhere between wonder and anguish.

Billy threw the strawberry into the wastebasket and picked the photograph up, sticky-fingered, to place on the bedside table. One of his fingerprints left a smear of colour across Elijah, marking him and tainting the porcelain-perfect skin.

 

 

 **I.** “Thanks for picking me up,” Elijah said, eyes darting quick-sharp to Billy and then out the window, fingers tapping against his thigh. His eyes flicked to the CD player, which was playing an album Billy had brought from home, quiet droning of bagpipes in the background.

“You can change it if you want,” Billy offered, and Elijah’s hand reached before pulling back.

“No, it’s fine.” He went back to gazing out the window, twirling a rose between his fingers. “It’s just weird…bagpipes at night. I don’t know, it makes them sound eerie.”

“Where did you get the rose?” Billy asked after a moment of silence, seeing Elijah’s fingers run over the underside of blood-dark petals.

“Some girl in the club.” He said it absently, not bothering to look over for Billy’s reaction. They both knew that Billy wasn’t jealous. He had no reason to be.

“Build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart’s-blood,” Billy quoted softly, and that brought Elijah’s eyes to him. Billy took his eyes from the road for a split second, to meet the question in Elijah’s. “It’s what to do if you want a red rose,” he explained.

Elijah smiled slightly, looked back to the window when Billy turned away. “I already have one.”

 

 

 **J.** Elijah found the picture before Billy remembered it was there, picked it up by one corner and studied the splatters of red. Billy waited silently for Elijah to speak, wondered if he should have hidden the photograph or whether he’d left it out deliberately so that Elijah would see it.

Elijah raised darkened eyes to meet his, shadows clinging to the hollows above his cheekbones. “Is this what you want?” he asked quietly. No judgment in his voice, only a sincere inquiry.

Billy took a step forward, carefully not denying. “Elijah, I would never…”

“I know.” Elijah slid across the bed, caught Billy’s hands and drew him forward for a kiss, rosebud lips soft against Billy’s mouth. He held Billy’s gaze when they parted. “I would let you.”

 

 

 **K.** Elijah watched Billy watching the flame, the candle close to guttering and dancing wildly. He scooted to the edge of the bed, walked naked to the dresser and held his hand a few inches above the candle, fingers twisting the thread of smoke as he teased the curls through the air. Billy caught his breath and watched, waiting.

Elijah had a half-smile on his face, eyes locked with Billy’s. He glanced away for a moment to the desperate flicker of the flame, leaping and flashing from the wick. Then his fingers dipped to graze the flame before lifting away again, the fire lapping hungrily after him. Billy stared, not breathing, not making a sound.

“Coloured like flame,” Elijah said off-handedly, fingertips tickling the smoke, and then his hand touched the fire, flame-dancing with the dying candle. Billy tore his eyes away from the sight of the candle, saw Elijah’s gaze on him, steady although the corners of his eyes were tight with pain. Billy held out a hand, and Elijah took his fingers out of the fire and returned to the bed. Billy cradled Elijah’s red fingers in his hand, felt the heat and the blood pulsing in them. He sucked them into his mouth, held them and Elijah’s eyes as he heard the soft hiss of pain.

He released them so that he could take Elijah’s mouth with his, pulled Elijah closer and began stroking, felt Elijah’s moan vibrate through his body. He teased Elijah’s tongue into his mouth, bit down and held it lightly between his teeth as Elijah climaxed.

Elijah tasted like blood.

 

 

 **L.** When Billy woke up he felt a stinging pain in his hand. He opened his eyes to find Elijah missing, and a red rose left on his pillow. Billy pulled halfway up to a sitting position, saw Elijah’s keys gone but his jacket and bag still there. He started to lay back down, winced as his hand throbbed when he thoughtlessly moved it, one of the rose’s thorns caught in the flesh of his palm. Gingerly, he pulled it away with his other hand, saw the tiny blot of blood on the white pillowcase leaking out from where the skin had been torn.

Billy closed his eyes and smiled.


End file.
